


Stubborn as Always

by EvergreenTea_1998



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Being Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cursed Aziraphale (Good Omens), Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches, cures, transformations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvergreenTea_1998/pseuds/EvergreenTea_1998
Summary: Aziraphale makes a mistake in not selling a book to a kind old lady. Now Crowley and Anathema are trying to help him before its to late.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey just writing for fun, had this idea for some reason and wanted to write. hope you all enjoy, it may be a little chaotic :)

It seemed like any other day at the bookshop for Aziraphale. He was walking amongst the shelves rearranging a few of the books in his expansive collection; he had no idea what brought about the sudden need to organize but, he didn't think much of it. He merrily hummed to himself as he pulled a few tomes from the shelve, causing a plume of dust to form in the space around him. He let out a small sigh of satisfaction. he had not sold a book all day nor had he dealt with any customers all day; his phoneline had not rung at all, nor had the small jingle of the bell above the door, He was happy for the peace and quiet. Aziraphale had plans later to day to go to dinner with Crowley at a new restaurant that had opened up recently that he was excited to try; perhaps if all went smooth, he could close the shop early and then wait for Crowley to come and pick him up in his death rap of a car.

He smiled at the idea of closing up, but that idea was now interrupted.

The small bell above the front, Aziraphale poked his head out, wondering it was Crowley; if it was he was rather early, he wasn't supposed to be at the shop for another hour. The person in the center of the bookshop was not his favorite demon and love of his life, rather it was an older woman. She was probably in her seventies or eighties in appearance with white hair that was tied into a brightly colored scarf; she looked like a babushka by the way she was dressed. A shawl covered her shoulders as she stood there with her back hunched and a crooked cane that was clasped in her hand and held her upwards. Deep lines covered her worn face, a pair of deep blue eyes stared back at him from under a pair of small, gold framed, glasses that rested upon her bulbus nose. 

She looked around with a raised eyebrow, her eyes eventually transfixing themselves onto Aziraphale; a small smile crossing her face.

"Hello dearie, I have a question for you?" she asked in a sweet voice, she had a thick Eastern Europe accent.

Aziraphale crossed the space between them, smiling pleasantly to her.

"What is your question dear?" he asked, trying to hide his slightly annoyance.

"I was wondering if you have a particular tome?" she asked. "It is a tome for witchcraft, I have searched for this tome and haven't been able to find it anywhere; however, I have heard that you have a wide arrange of books in your collection and I was wondering if you had a certain one for witchcraft?" 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment. Why would they want to purchase a book related to the magics; those can be quiet dangerous in the wrong hands if he just sold them freely to anyone. He didn't even let Anathema look through a lot of them due to the black magic that is intertwined to them; he didn't want to risk anyone using these spells against anyone or anything for that matter. He was concerned that they were just an older woman buying a real spell book for their grandchild that was trying to study magic for the first time; however, buying centuries old spell book that could be used for both good and evil was alarming to him.

"Which tomb are you looking for exactly?" Aziraphale asked, trying to hid his worry.

She thought for a moment and placed both her hands on the top of her cane.

"I'm looking for certain tomb that was owned by Anna Cloven; it should have been written around the 16th century or so?" 

Aziraphale stared at them for a moment; he knew he had the book but he didn't really want to sell it. He knew very well then to sell a book of that age to her; he could already see her either trying to perform a spell in it and it blowing up in her face, or she would get it to someone as a gift. He didn't want them to have it either, he was just being a bit of a bastard and was more protective and precautious of selling his spell tomes and books, and well every book for that matter in his collection.

"I'm afraid I don't have that particular one in my collection," Aziraphale lied.

she raised an eyebrow at him; the smiley tone and personality washing away. 

"I think you do," she said with a small snip to her tone. " If it is anything to you, I'm not asking you to sell it to me. I'm just asking you if I could just see it?"   
"I'm afraid I can't do that, the book is in really rough condition." Aziraphale huffed, he was beginning to loose his temper with her and so was she. "That is if I have the particular book and I don't."

"I'm just asking to copy a spell down is all!" She said with a scowl drawn on her face, the edge of her mouth twitching with annoyance. "Its not like your going to do anything with it, you're just sitting on them and not sharing anything with anyone."

Aziraphale frowned at them, he wasn't in the mood to deal with her; he knew he was being rude but that was the least of his problems.

"I am certainly not, I have a collection yes and I do sell but, there as some that I simply can't part with."

Her eyes narrowed as she reached into the pocket of her floor length skirt and pulled out a card and put it on the front counter; she then turned to face Aziraphale and threw a thick powder on him from her bag, causing him to hack and cough as a result.

"You can call me when you have changed your mind dearie, which I hope you consider," she said as she turned on her heels and left Aziraphale hacking from the pungent powder and dust she had thrown at him. 

The door above the bookshop jingled with the door slamming shut behind her.

Aziraphale coughs finally seized, his eyes stung from whatever yellow powder she threw into his face. It covered the front of him, which he sighed and miracled his suit clean with a snap. He let out a short, vexed sigh and tugged on the hem of his waist coat; whatever he had done he didn't deserve a handful of something thrown in his face, he assumed it was pigment due to the rich color. Whatever it was, he shook his head and tried to forget about her and closed the bookshop on that note.   
As he made his way to the back room he noticed the card they had left on the front counter; he picked it up and felt a deeper frown cross his face. He headed into the back room and dropped the card into the waste basket next to his desk and tried to rid his mind of her and decided to get ready for his date with Crowley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale entirely forgot about the older lady who came into his shop weeks after his date with Crowley; that was until something happens that he nor Crowley saw coming.

Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves seated across from one another; Aziraphale enjoying the cuisine and wine as Crowley enjoyed seeing his angel smile and groan delightedly after every bite. Crowley enjoyed his glass of red and sipped it as he glanced around the packed restaurant and then back to his angel.

"So, how was your day angel?" Crowley finally asked as Aziraphale took a sip of his wine after finishing his dinner and was waiting for desert.

Aziraphale set his glass down.

"It was fine dear, dealt with a rather rude customer was all before you arrived."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, he could see Aziraphale's face twitch with a bit of annoyance at mentioning this customer.

Crowley knew Aziraphale disliked customers, he didn't like selling any part of his expansive collection to anyone; even if he knew they would take care of it or were willing to fork out a lot of money for it. If he did it was out of sheer luck he sold anything. Aziraphale, for the most part, didn't sell anything and would use miracles to send customers out of the store or have them avoid the shop all together; especially when he wasn't in the mood to deal with customers or anyone besides Crowley, he could never not be in the mood to see Crowley. Crowley had seen Aziraphale cross with a few customers, and hold a particular grudge( even if Aziraphale says he doesn't hold grudges because, Angels don't hold grudges) for them whenever they would appear in his store again. It takes a lot to get Aziraphale to be slightly vexed over a customer( he had far more patients then Crowley did) so, when something got under his skin about a rude customers, they did something wrong to push his buttons. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Crowley asked. It was an innocent enough question to get the ball rolling.

Aziraphale sighed a bit and took another sip of his wine.

"Well dear, I had a rude customer, an older woman, come in today and ask for a particular spell tome by Anna Cloven; Cloven was a witch from the 16th century that studied both white and black magic. She wanted me to sell it to her and I told her that I didn't have it and if I did I wouldn't sell it to her." Aziraphale explained getting a bit vexed talking about it. "She was rather rude and kept insisting I show her the book because she wanted to jot down a spell or two from it; she told me she didn't want to purchase the whole spell book at all either."

"But you have the book right, so you lied to her to keep a book?" Crowley asked, smirking a bit as he saw Aziraphale's face twitch that he had been lying to this customer; he never was a good liar.

"Well... yes, maybe I did tell a small fib there, but the point is I didn't sell it to her and she got rather upset and let her business card telling me that I should reconsider selling; she also told me that I had no purpose for all of my books because I'm not sharing their knowledge with the world."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, it was strange that they had left a card and were that rude to his angel, if he was there at that time, he would have kicked the old lady out of the store and or miracled her away somewhere where the sun doesn't shine.

"Did you keep the card?" Crowley asked taking a sip of his wine and watched Aziraphale enjoy his small slice of devils-food cake; his angel smiled with every bite until there was nothing left.

Aziraphale shook his head and dabbed the corners of his mouth daintily with his napkin.

"Oh heavens no, I tossed it into the waist basket besides my desk and tried to rid my mind of them." Aziraphale explained. "They were awfully rude, and to leave a business card after throwing a handful of yellow powder at me was another thing; I had to miracle myself clean and all due to the fallout of it getting everywhere."

Crowley sputtered for a moment, spitting out a bit of wine and began to cough.

"Oh Crowley, are you aright?!" Aziraphale panicked as Crowley coughed for a few minutes trying to regain himself.

"Yeah angel, I'm alright, just went down the wrong pipe is all," Crowley rasped for a moment, feeling a bit of anger for what the old lady did to Aziraphale. "But she threw powder at you?"

"Well, um, yes. She threw a weird yellow powder at me; I think it was pigment for paint and stormed off out of the store. It is nothing to worry about dear, she wont bother me again. I have had customers say profanities to me but, throwing pigment into my face was another thing." Aziraphale said, trailing off a bit as he saw the way Crowley began to fester from across the way. "Crowley, I can see what your thinking and I'm telling you to not go after her."

"Why?" Crowley asked feeling appalled at the idea of letting this lady get away with that. "She is a high class 'Karen' Aziraphale, she threw powder at you for Someone's sake and ruined your cloths, leaving you to miracle the mess!"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow to them, meeting Crowley's eyes, even if they were hidden behind his sunglasses, and took Crowley's hand in his own. 

"Dear, I know where your coming from, but I feel it is best to ignore what had happened. I still have no idea if she is what you say is a 'Karen' though?" Aziraphale said earnestly, but he sounded a little bewildered at the end though. "What exactly is a 'Karen' anyhow?" 

Crowley chucked slightly.

"It's a joke angel, its describes a person who thinks they deserve everything handed to them on a silver platter, even though they are rude to staff and management. They are the type of people to complain they can't use an expired coupon or when they order something and complain that it wasn't correct even though that is what they ordered." Crowley explained, trying not to crack up explaining the concept of what a 'Karen' was. "So yeah, that lady you dealt with was a 'Karen'."

Aziraphale nodded, seeming to understand what he was saying. The the realization hit him.

"So does this mean your a 'Karen' then?" Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley stared at him a confused look.

"Reason I ask is that you can be rude sometimes dear?"

Crowley laughed heartedly with Aziraphale cracking up as well.

"No, for the love of Sa- Somebody angel, I'm not a 'Karen'."

* * *

Aziraphale had entirely forgotten about the mean women that had come into his shop; it has been about a week now and the event had slipped his mind. But, that didn't mean that other things were bothering him.

For starters, he was a little bit on edge in recent days leading up to the weekend, it was Thursday now. He had no idea what to be on edge about. Crowley had noticed how Aziraphale fidgeted with his waist coat a lot more then he used to throughout the week; it was subtle at first but, then he kept rubbing his fingers along the hem of his waistcoat like he had done during the lead up to the non- apocalypses, the 'worry spots' as Crowley knew them by. Crowley knew whatever it was it had to be wearing on his mind.

Aziraphale kept rubbing the fabric till it was worn out in certain areas, leaving the light brown color of his waist-coat a bit blotchy in areas. Crowley also caught on to the fact he fidgeted with his ring as well, spinning it around his finger nervously in a trace till Crowley sort of snapped him out of it. Crowley was concerned since Aziraphale didn't often drift off and let his mind wander, if he did that there was something going on that Aziraphale was dealing with; Crowley knew all of these twitches and knew something was deeply wrong 

Aziraphale had also become restless as well, Aziraphale had adjusted to sleeping, or at least sort of, after the non-apocalypse had come and gone; Crowley had always liked sleeping and since Aziraphale and Crowley had made their relationship official, after their date at the Ritz after 'the swap', they began to sleep besides one another. Aziraphale dozed off into a few hours of sleep at a time as Crowley could sleep forever; however, recently Aziraphale hadn't been able to unwind enough to sleep or at least get comfortable. He had begun to bring books to bed but, he seemed to get frustrated and set them aside halfway through reading them and would get up and make himself a cup of tea in his flats kitchenet. 

Crowley had also noticed the mood switches and strange fluxes that Aziraphale had gone through; Aziraphale had also noticed it as well and didn't know why he was either extremely anxious, sad, frustrated, or overenthusiastic. He had accidently snipped a bit at Crowley, causing the demon to go wide eyed and causing Aziraphale to panic and apologize profusely till he began to sob. Crowley had no idea what Aziraphale was going through nor did Aziraphale; Crowley decided it was best to try to figure out Aziraphale's ever changing moods by asking him how he was and deciding the mood given the response. Most of the time it was him being sad, enthusiastic, or anxious; if he did get frustrated it only lasted a small bit of time before he snapped back to a normal mood that Crowley knew better than anyone. 

The other fluxes were another story, Aziraphale had probably been the only, and he means the only person, to see what fluxes he had gone through first hand; and those fluxes where with his weight. Aziraphale had always had a rounder form, he once had a slimmer corporation at one time but he couldn't remember that exact corporation and rather enjoyed the one he had of the present; however, it seemed that he had begun to gain a few here and there in the past week or so. It wasn't obvious at first, that was until he started noticing the tightening of his waist coat around his stomach; he had also noticed the gain in other places of his body, he guess he had around an extra ten or so pounds to his figure as a whole due to whatever was happening to him. Crowley had begun to notice as well, but didn't say anything, he didn't want to make Aziraphale even more paranoid and anxious as he already was. Crowley had caught glimpses of Aziraphale in his bedroom before the floor-length mirror struggling to button up his waist coat and trousers, which he miracled them a bit bigger to fit him. Crowley deeply cared for Aziraphale and didn't want to see him unhappy with himself or anything, so he would offer to cuddle with Aziraphale, which Aziraphale always agreed to, and they would watch a few films on the TV.

Crowley had asked Aziraphale if he could tell him what was wrong, but Aziraphale really didn't have an answer and Crowley went along with it; worrying in the distance till Aziraphale finally could find an explanation besides that he didn't know or couldn't explain what he was feeling besides he was all over the place and unbalanced. Even as the week was coming to an end Aziraphale didn't know what to make of his predicament and still told Crowley he had no clue. 

All They could do was try to make the best of the situation, cuddling up and watching films at night was the best way to get Aziraphale calm enough but, Crowley feared it wouldn't last forever. He could see Aziraphale's twitches following him while watching TV with Crowley, even if they were both snuggled up on the sofa together in Crowley's flat, Aziraphale still fidgeted uncontrollably. His fidgeting got pretty bad as the week went on, but Crowley waited it out, still holding Aziraphale tight and Aziraphale doing the same, hoping it would stop, and stop it did.

* * *

Aziraphale had been restless alongside Crowley for a duration of the film, Crowley had noticed that he had been tugging at the hem of his night shirt. His face seemed to drain of color halfway through the film with his body shifting positions on the uncomfortable sofa in Crowley's apartment. The blanket had been to hot for Aziraphale so he sat at the edge of the sofa rubbing his thumbs together.

"Angel you alright, you don't look so good?" Crowley asked as he turned to face Aziraphale.

"I'm fine dear, just a little distracted is all." Aziraphale lied. He was feeling nauseous and his skin felt clammy and uncomfortable. 

"You sure your okay?" Crowley asked again, taking in the sight of his boyfriend in his declining state.

"I think I'm going to get myself a cup of tea, do you want a cup?" Aziraphale said in a mutter and rose from the sofa and headed to the kitchen.

"No thanks angel." Crowley called and turned back to the TV.

Aziraphale stepped into the kitchen and put the kettle on, he reached up into the cupboard and pulled down one of the few mugs Crowley had. He held the mug in his hands and turned the around to look out of the the great windows that were apart of Crowley's dining room which, Aziraphale froze.

He felt his heart ache in the center of his chest, it burned and ached casing him to drop the mug and crumple to the floor; his body trembling uncontrollably as his bones ached and churred, his flesh feeling to tight and unbearably itchy. It felt like he was wrapped in a thick wool blanket or cloth containing fiberglass. His ears screamed in a high pitch frequency that splintered and wedged itself into his skull; his vision was tunneled down leaving him almost in pure darkness. His breath felt jagged and uneasy, almost like he was being stabbed by shards of thin glass that with each breath broke off into various parts in his lungs. His joints seemed to lock causing him to be stuck in a excruciating ball on the floor with his hands stuck in uncomfortable states.

"Crow-ley" Aziraphale cried weakly, his trembling making it hard to cry out for help.

"Angel!" Crowley shouted in worry and ran besides Aziraphale on the floor, he was already on his knees next to Aziraphale with his hand on his lovers quacking shoulders. "What's going on!"

Aziraphale's eyes squeezed shut as a wave of aches racked his body, causing him to his and whimper in pain. "I have no id- ah!"

Aziraphale screamed his body curling further in on himself as Crowley stared in panic trying to figure out what to do; Aziraphale was in pain was all he could think about. Crowley heard bones snap and shift before him in a sickening way, causing the demon's eyes to widen in horror as he saw Aziraphale's face had begun to shift, the bones cracking to reform into something new.

"Ple-ase- help- me!" Aziraphale sobbed, his voice cracking as he did so.

Crowley took scooped Aziraphale off the floor bridal style and carried him to the living room and set his down near to the far wall with his back up against the radiator. Crowley snapped his fingers, causing miracled bonds of rope and chair to bind Aziraphale in place.

"Crow-l-ah what are you doin-

Aziraphale's hands began to crack and shift into paws, his fingernails popped off as claws emerged from the nailbeds. Blood fell to the floor in heavy drops as Aziraphale sobbed in horror.

Crowley knelt besides Aziraphale, he could see his blue eyes had begun to shift into a amber.

"Aziraphale, I hate doing this to you but, you are cursed and turning into something and this is for your own good !" Crowley planted a quick kiss on Aziraphale's forehead and backed away as his body shifted and morphed. "I love you and I'm not leaving you. I'm gonna be right here okay."

Aziraphale nodded, his face had already begun to spout course brown fur, as well as his body

"Love you to -dea

Aziraphale screamed again as he rolled forward, his cloths had already begun to stretch and tear as his body lengthened and widened in certain placed. His shoulders widened a bit as muscle formed in places that was once soft flesh; Crowley cowered at the thing that sat chained up in his living room, it was Aziraphale but, he didn't know if he was in control or not. Crowley didn't want to be bitten or anything by him incase something happened, so Crowley miracled a muzzle around the humanoid wolf before him. 

Crowley couldn't believe his eyes. Aziraphale was a werewolf, but how could he be cursed he was an angel; then he remembered the old lady Aziraphale had talked about a week ago.

"Fuck."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a big hunk but I decided to break it up. I might add another chapter on so, there might be five; however I'm unsure.
> 
> hope you all enjoy :)

Aziraphale lazily opened his eyes, he felt stiff and nauseous; his head felt like it was filled with cotton as he tried to recall the night before; he recalled being in the kitchen and had crumpled to the floor but, he was still trying to figure out why he was sitting upright when he had fallen to the floor. He lifted his head lazily to see he was in the living room; he had no recollection on how he had gotten into the living room in the first place.

He looked around groggily, he felt like he had a hangover but had not recalled drinking anything the night before. His eyes scanned the room till they landed on Crowley, who sat across from him; Crowley was sitting on the floor with his back pressed against his sofa, so he was sitting upwards sleeping. Various books, which Aziraphale instantly recognized as some of his books from his rare collection, gingerly stacked next to one another besides him; a pad of paper with various torn off and crumpled up yellow paper form the pad laid around him as others were scribbled on and laid spewed around him.

Aziraphale tried to move but found that he was bound, he could feel the divots in the radiator behind him; the bounds and radiator were not hurting him at all, but he was uncomfortable. He could not really move at all; his eyes shifted to something that laid on the floor in front of him: a muzzle.

Why was there a muzzle on the ground not to far away from where he was? Crowley did not have a dog, or anything like that, so why was the muzzle there?

Crowley lifted his head, stirring from his sleep and blinked, his sunglasses had fallen into his lap when he had fallen asleep, which he picked them up and planted them back on his face. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a cautious look on his face.

“Morning angel, how did you sleep?” Crowley asked as he rose to his feet yawning with a worried expression soon on his face.

“Crowley, why am I tied up here?” Aziraphale asked, feeling at a loss of words, and thought at the moment as he tried to comprehend what was happening. “What even happened last night, I fell I was in pain and then I wake up like this? Why are my clothes in tatters oh, I have kept them in tip top condition forever?!”

Crowley stood there as he watched Aziraphale’s tone get more anxious as he continued to sputter off before him.

“Aziraphale, calm down okay, I can’t talk to you when you get riled up like this,” Crowley said as he bent down besides Aziraphale and began to work off the bounds around Aziraphale.

Crowley’s fingers began to loosen the bounds around Aziraphale; Crowley tried to sooth Aziraphale’s nerves as best as he could, saying calming words to him until the bounds were entirely off him.

“There now, let’s get you to your feet,” Crowley said as he tugged Aziraphale to his feet and caught Aziraphale as he stumbled forward a bit. Aziraphale fell into Crowley’s chest which Aziraphale looked up sheepishly at Crowley.

“Thank you dearest,” Aziraphale stuttered a bit awkwardly, his blue eyes looking into Crowley’s honey gaze; Crowley smiled and steadied him up.

“Don’t mention it angel.” Crowley said as he watched as Aziraphale tugged at the torn hem of his night shirt and fidgeted with his fingers with an embarrassed and worried expression taking over his face.

“Crowley, what happened last night?” Aziraphale asked, a deeply concerned tone taking over his voice as he took in his appearance more while standing; he could see his reflection on the tall mirror on the side wall in the living room and stared wide eyed in shock at the disheveled state he was in.

Aziraphale’s hair was usually all over the place in messy curls; however, his hair seemed to have lengthened a bit and seemed to stand up in various directions and was flattened in others. He put his hand through his hair and felt his arm brush into his face, his eyes widened at the slight scruff on his face, it was almost like he had not shaved in well over a week or two. He headed up to the mirror, and began to examine his appearance up close, taking in the fact that he looked tired as ever; deep purple bags rested under his eyes. His face seemed a bit puffy with some signs of light bruising here and there around his face; the light scruffy blonde five o’clock shadow was visible on his face, which was surprising because he had gone to his barber recently and did not require another clean shave for some time.

He felt physically tired, even after just waking up. He yawned and surveyed himself, realizing that he was slightly hunched over and rocking slightly like he was being hit with waves. His body seemed a bit stiff, which he assumed it may have been to the way he slept or whatever happened before last night; his head still felt stuffy and heavy, almost like someone had poured concrete into it or stuffed cotton into it. A dull pain of a headache lingered in the front of his head and caused strain on his eyes.

His clothing was torn at the shoulders and around his sides as well, the seams having been pulled apart and hung with frayed thread holding them together; buttons had been missing from his top but, his bottoms had primarily remained unaltered by whatever had happened. His mouth tightened into a thin line as he kept surveying himself, trying to tug to torn fabric of his tattered shirt in a self-conscious way; he tried to cover himself, he could feel his face becoming beet red with embarrassment.

“ _What would Crowley think of you in this state?”_ a voice in Aziraphale’s head rang which caused him to become more embarrassed as a result.

Crowley had never seen Aziraphale’s body in any sort of varying degree of nudity; of course, Aziraphale had seen Crowley nude tons of time at this point now that he thought of it. But Crowley knew that Aziraphale was rather conscious and bashful when it came to his corporation. Crowley was lucky to see Aziraphale’s forearms occasionally if he rolled up his sleeves; Crowley took in the rare occasion, hell he felt like he was a Victorian taking in the sight of an ankle.

Crowley could tell Aziraphale was uneasy about his appearance as of the moment, and Aziraphale. His cloths were torn in all the places that Aziraphale did not feel were the best about him, even thought Crowley cherished him and has told his several times at this point that he loved him and everything about him; however, there was still a nagging bit in Aziraphale’s mind that just didn’t let him have peace with the way his body appeared.

Aziraphale quickly snapped his fingers to fix his clothes and sighed with relief that he was at least in a presentable state; however, he instantly regretted miracleing his clothing back together. A wave of nausea hit him as his body began to ache like it had done the night before, it was dull pain, but it still was uncomfortable and jarring. The discomfort of his pain written on his face and catching Crowley’s attention.

He came up besides Aziraphale and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come along angel I’ll explain everything over some breakfast.” Crowley said and guided Aziraphale to the kitchen with his angel leaning into Crowley heavily for support since he was burned out and tired.

* * *

Crowley finished up breakfast and watched as Aziraphale dug in like a starved man, after his third or so cup of tea to end the groggy feeling in his head and slipping on his reading glasses to correct his eyesight, which had gotten worse since he had woken up, Crowley began to explain everything.

“So, angel, what do you remember from last night?” Crowley asked taking a sip of his coffee and setting off to the side.

Aziraphale thought for a moment, he yawned and took a downed the last of cup of tea.

“Well, I recall coming into the kitchen feeling a little off, nervous I suppose and then collapsed. Whatever was happening it hurt like nothing I have experienced before…. I think you tied me to the radiator, but I had no idea why?”

Crowley nodded as he listened to Aziraphale, it was good that he remembered soemthing before collapsing; however, how was he supposed to explain to him that he might be cursed as a werewolf and he had no real idea how to fix it. He didn’t like seeing Aziraphale like that, his lovers body contorting and changing in painful ways till he turned into something that Crowley

could not stop; he didn’t want Aziraphale to be stuck like this forever, having him in constant pain and tired. Seeing how Aziraphale’s face seemed hollowed in a way that was worrisome to Crowley.

“ _Had he lost weight with happened last night?”_ Crowley thought as his eyes widened behind his sunglasses to see that his observation was true, he had lost weight.

It was not noticeable until the sun created shadows along Aziraphale’s face. Crowley internally shuttered at the thought of seeing Aziraphale a hollowed version of himself as time went on if he remained cursed. He didn’t want to see him in that state, not at all.

“Crowley you alright dear?” Aziraphale asked in a worried tone, noticing how Crowley had been staring at him for some time.

“Yeah, just thinking is all.” Crowley answered as he downed his coffee.

“You still haven’t explained anything to me.” Aziraphale frowned.

Crowley sighed.

“Okay, remember that little old lady that had showed up at your shop and gave you that business card and all that? She threw that powder in your face?” Crowley asked as he searched for a good way to explain this further, he was never good at finding the right words for things.

“Yes dear, I do recall that woman, she wanted to buy that witchcraft book by Anna Cloven that I refused to sell to her?” Aziraphale said in a puzzled voice.

“Well… I think she may have done something to you.” Crowley explained sounding unsure of how Aziraphale would react to this.

“What do you think she has done to me?” Aziraphale said. “I’m an angelic being, what could she possibly do to me?”

Crowley’s mouth thinned into a line as he could see Aziraphale’s face drop a bit.

“What is it Crowley?”

“I don’t know how to break this to you but-

“But what!?”

“She cursed you Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley in bewilderment.

“She cursed me?” Aziraphale repeated sounding a bit worried. “What do you mean?”

“She cursed to you to turn into a werewolf angel.”

Aziraphale froze for a moment, a confused look crossing over his face as he assessed the dilemma before him and Crowley.

“That can’t be right,” Aziraphale said in bewildered mutter. “You can’t curse ethereal or occult beings?”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought more and more about a way that that would make sense, he had never heard of anyone, let alone anything cursing an angel or demon before; of course, there were wards, binding spells, and such but, to be cursed in such a way required a lot of work.

“Do you think its just your corporation and not your soul that has been mettled with angel?” Crowley asked, trying to see what damages were done and how to fix them. “Maybe… seeing if its just your corporation we can probably find a way to…you know…fix it?”

Aziraphale sighed for a moment and though it over, it was a good idea to figure out what was the matter assessing his corporation and spiritual energy. He closed his eyes and looked deep and was not happy with the result.

“Oh dear, that’s not good,” Aziraphale said as he opened his eyes with a dreaded expression on his face.

“What, what’s not good?” Crowley said, feeling nervous about the answer; he hoped that it was just his corporation and did not seep into his grace.

“Well, where to begin is the question?” Aziraphale muttered, his color draining from his face as he spoke; he sank back into his seat with his anxiety growing now.

“Do you think you need a drink to get through it or not?” Crowley asked.

He shook his head.

“I think it is better sober dear.” Aziraphale began. “It seems that you were right about my corporation being cursed dear.”

Crowley sighed in a bit of relief; however, there was still the question of fixing it. They were not both welcome in Heaven and Hell so, just the thought of Aziraphale discorporating because of this filled Crowley with dread. They would not give him another body if he lost this one, let alone take a body that was cursed.

“Well, that’s at least a start.” Crowley said. “At least we have an idea of-

“It seems to be seeping into my essence to dear.” Aziraphale introjected.

Crowley froze for a moment to digest what he had heard.

“Wait _what_?!”

“Its minor but it is still slightly seeping into my essence; if I did get discorporated, it seems it would linger in my essence and possibly stay with me forever.” Aziraphale explained.

Crowley’s mind raced, he did not want to have his angel stuck like this forever. He raked his mind trying to remember everything about what Aziraphale had said, then he remembered the business card the old lady left.

“Aziraphale, have you emptied your waste bin at the shop, the one next to your desk?” Crowley asked in a quickened tone.

“No dear, why?” Aziraphale asked as he saw Crowley snap his fingers and the card was in his hand.

Aziraphale stared at the card.

“I don’t think it is a good idea to call her, especially with how you are now; I don’t want her doing something to you too Crowley.”

“Ngk, then what do you want me to do?” Crowley groaned. “If we don’t do anything you might be stuck like this forever!”  
  


Aziraphale thought for a moment and then came up with an idea.

“Well, if anything, I think we should call Anathema. She is a witch after all and she might be able to do something about this, if she can’t then we call the number on the card.” Aziraphale shrugged. “I really don’t want to call the number on the card incase she does something to you or she proceeds to torment me.”


End file.
